


just like old times

by prettyboyrollins



Series: Reunion [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Emotions, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 17:06:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12113292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyboyrollins/pseuds/prettyboyrollins
Summary: They haven't really talked much since they reunited, and while they don't really need words, sometimes actual conversations have to be had. [Dean and Seth talk about forgiveness.]





	just like old times

**Author's Note:**

> hoOOOOO boy this is my first piece of cohesive fiction since 2014 and i'm really emotional over ambrollins forever. i had a conversation with dudeambrose on tumblr about how dean forgiving seth was as much for dean as it was for seth, and i've been yelling about how much touching they've been doing since 8/14, and this kinda just... happened. there's a sequel to this, too, if people want it. enjoy!

It had been five weeks since everything had fallen back into place and Dean’s world had righted on its axis. And while five weeks wasn’t _really_ enough to fix three years of pain and hurt and damage, well, it was enough to slip back into old habits.

Despite what they’d been through, being around each other came back as easy as breathing, both in and out of the ring. They hadn’t really needed _words_ in their fights leading up to Angle making things official. And that was _nice._ In all his time on Smackdown, Dean never had that with anyone. As much as he hated to admit it, he _missed_ it, missed _Seth_ and their easy chemistry.

Now it was back, and everything felt _good_ aside from Seth’s incessant apologizing. “I get it, man. I accept it.” He hadn’t outright _forgiven_ him with words – he’d always been a man of action instead. And he’d done the fist bump in the ring and then gotten them the pin to win the tag team championship, so he was pretty sure his point got across.

And things… were good.

Things hadn’t been _good_ since June of 2014, but now they were _really_ fucking good.

It really _hit_ him in the quiet moments – the locker room after a win, Seth’s arm around him and that soft, genuine smile on his face, or after a solo loss on the ramp, Seth’s bare chest pressed to his back as he dared Cesaro or Sheamus or whoever they were booked with that week to try anything. It was… comforting. He was thriving, and everyone could see it.

They were back on the road together, Seth insisting on driving because he hated being a passenger, Dean insisting on being DJ because he couldn’t stand Seth’s taste in music, splitting hotel rooms and sharing dinners and gym time. Despite all of Dean’s (and Seth’s) worries, there was never too much awkwardness.

Not even when Seth got emotional and said shit like “Hey Dean? Thank you,” completely out of the blue while they were getting ready for bed.

“Huh?”

“Thank you. For… for _this.”_ Seth looked soft again, a vulnerability in his eyes Dean _still_ wasn’t used to seeing despite how often it’d shown up these past few weeks.

“Daddy Vince picked up the room tab, man, thank _him.”_

Seth huffed an irritated sigh. “Oh my god, Dean. I’m not talking about the hotel room.” His tone was fond, though, even through the exasperation. Dean decided he could get used to this.

He pulled his shirt over his head and heaved a sigh of his own. “I know, man. And I don’t know what to say. I didn’t do this so you could sleep better at night, y’know? I did this for _me.”_

Anyone else would’ve missed the way Seth’s eyes widened the tiniest bit, but Dean wasn’t _just_ anyone, and he had years of experience reading all of the minutiae of Seth’s expressions.

“I know, I know. Shocker. Dean Ambrose is a selfish motherfucker too.” He laughed, but it was humorless. He was being more serious than he’d been in a long time, and he knew somewhere Roman would be proud of him for not deflecting with jokes for once in his goddamn life. “Seth, you… you took _everything_ from me. You and Roman were all I had – I don’t know if you noticed, but I didn’t have a lotta friends. I had you and I had Roman, and then you left and I couldn’t… it was only a matter of time before Roman and I had to go separate ways, too. And you know me, man. I don’t trust easy. That’s kinda my thing.”

It wasn’t meant to be a needle at Seth, at how he shattered the fragile trust Dean had taken so long to cultivate, but Seth recoiled all the same. Dean wasn’t about to apologize for being honest, though, so he pressed on.

“Spent three years hatin’ your guts, but… what we got? It’s fuckin’… magical, ‘s what it is. Shit, I had almost forgotten how _good_ it felt to be fightin’ _with_ you instead of against you.”

“Me too,” Seth added quietly. He looked so completely stripped bare on his bed across the room. Good – Dean had missed seeing his humanity since he’d sold his soul to the Authority. This reaffirmed that Seth was himself again, and it helped make everything a little less scary.

“And you and I both know we bring out the best in each other. Have for years now.” He grinned a little. “What was it you called us?”

“Wrestling soulmates?” Seth offered, wearing that same soft grin he’d had after winning the tag team titles in Brooklyn.

“Yeah. That’s us. Wrestling soulmates. We just… work. And I missed that. I still got scars from that steel chair, don’t get me wrong, but… I can’t be angry at you for the rest of my life. It’s exhausting. I wanna be happy again. I _deserve_ to be happy, man, my whole life’s been fucked for ages. I gotta take the good shit when it comes along, while I can.”

Seth nodded, still uncharacteristically quiet. He stood up slowly, coming over to Dean and wrapping him in a hug without saying a word; Dean allowed himself, just this once, to collapse into it.

There were no tears, but his body was emotionally and physically drained. He still wasn’t used to being this _open_ with anyone, and it exhausted him like nothing else – not even a match with Lesnar could wreck him as completely as this absolutely innocuous talk with Seth in a hotel in Bumfuck, Nowhere.

“I promise I’m not goin’ anywhere, Dean,” Seth said. It was honest and exposed in a way Dean would never really get accustomed to seeing on him. “And not just ‘cause we’re the _defending_ tag team champions.” Seth’s smile was audible, and Dean turned his head so he could return it against his neck. “Leaving you and Roman was the biggest mistake I ever made, and now I know exactly where I wanna be: right by your side, winning and losing and being your brother in arms. Simple as that.”

Dean felt like they’d shifted back to 2012, nervous and excited after success on the main roster, the three of them swearing to stick together through everything, except everything was still so different. His fingers tightened in the fabric of Seth’s shirt. “I’m still gonna need some time to really l- to really believe that,” he said, catching himself before he admitted he needed to _let himself_ believe it. He’d already confessed enough tonight.

“I understand. But I _do_ mean it, even though me sayin’ that’s gonna do nothing to convince you.”

They stood in silence for a bit, enjoying the fact that they could be physically close like this again after years without it. Dean was the first to pull away, and when he did, he shed his jeans to slip under the covers of one of the beds.

Seth was halfway through getting undressed himself when he turned around and stopped. “Uh. Dude.”

“Yeah?” Dean stretched out and scratched at his stomach lazily.

“That was my bed.” Seth motioned at the suitcases next to it, the phone on the nightstand, the half-eaten salad that Dean had shifted to the other side so he could get in.

Well, he’d already been incredibly honest that night. A little more couldn’t hurt. “Listen, man, after all that emotions talk, I’m feelin’ real nostalgic for the old days.” And it wasn’t a complete lie – his strong desire to curl up with Seth and never let go didn’t need to be voiced just this second. “Now we don’t got a big-ass Samoan man snorin’ across the room, but we can pretend. Share a bed, just like old times.”

Seth didn’t move for a few moments, and it was enough for Dean to panic about crossing an invisible line and ruining everything so soon after fixing it; then Seth was stepping out of his pants and slipping into bed next to him, the warmth and weight more than welcome at Dean’s side. He was surprised at how naturally they fell back together into their old ways. Seth slotted against Dean’s side, head tucked into his shoulder, legs tangled together, like it hadn’t been over three years since they’d last done this.

“Just like old times?” Seth’s voice was just above a whisper as Dean turned off the lights and turned on the TV, flicking to some crime show for them to fall asleep to.

“Just like old times,” Dean agreed, and he hoped they could keep things this way for the rest of his life.


End file.
